


Kid/Family Fluff collection

by sittingoverheredreaming



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 20:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16839625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sittingoverheredreaming/pseuds/sittingoverheredreaming
Summary: Non-chronological pieces featuring Haruka and Michiru as parents. Slight AU in that this isn't Crystal Tokyo.





	1. Hands

Her hands had killed. Her hands had torn people apart, had wrecked worlds and lives and friendships. Her hands were tainted. Her hands were brutish, calloused, rough as sandpaper and tough as nails.

And yet the nurse placed the softest thing in the world in them. Haruka almost told her not to, that she would surely break it, that it should be left in Michiru’s arms, she was softer, she knew more, Haruka had read so much, taken classes, but Michiru always knew more–

But then her hand, Haruka’s rough, powerful hand, moved instinctively under the baby’s head. She cradled her close, this softest girl, and nothing else mattered. Her daughter needed softness, and so she was soft. Her daughter needed gentleness, and so she was gentle.

Her daughter needed goodness, and so even Haruka could be good. Haruka would be anything this little girl needed.

Michiru gave her an exhausted smile from the bed. “The two of you are beautiful.”

Haruka smiled back, the sight of her wife blurring through the tears. She sat next to her, still nestling the baby against her chest. “I thought I wouldn’t know how to do this.”

Michiru leaned over and kissed her elbow, the only thing in her reach. “You are perfect for this, love.”

Haruka looked from her to the baby, their baby, and for the first time in her life, believed it could be true. She could be perfect, or at least good. Who she was, who she had been and what she had done, was only dust in the wind. Nothing would keep her from doing right by her daughter. Her family.

Her hands would build, heal, fix. Her hands would check baths and bottles and make shadow puppets on the walls when the power went out. Her hands would hold her baby’s head and then her hand and hopefully always her heart.

Haruka’s hands were what she chose to do with them, and from that moment forward, she would always choose care.


	2. The Best Papa

Haruka had a photo of the day she was born.

Her mother looked terrified.

Her mother looked relieved.

Her mother looked overwhelmed.

Her mother looked like holding her baby was the scariest thing in the world.

Haruka had a photo of the day her first daughter was born.

Haruka looked terrified.

Haruka looked relieved.

Haruka looked overwhelmed.

Haruka looked like holding her baby was the scariest thing in the world.

She kept them together in her bedside table– her secret reminder of what she was.

It was much harder to keep secrets from children than she expected.

Mimi found them at age four– by accident, she claimed, the drawer just opened, though Haruka did not need Michiru’s shrewd eyebrow raise to know Mimi was digging around for candy. Mimi did not let them change the subject. “Papa!” She said, waving the more recent picture as high as she could reach. “Is this me?”

“It is, Poptart.” She picked her up and settled into the couch. “That’s the day you were born.”

“Where’s Mama?”

“We’ve got other photos with Mama.”

Michiru caught her eye. “Do you want to see more, Mimi?”

She nodded solemnly. “I was very small.”

“You were.” Michiru knelt down and tickled Mimi’s tummy. “You were teeny tiny. And now you’re grown up so big.”

She left to dig out a photo album, and Mimi brought the other photo to the front. “Who’s this one, Papa?”

Haruka bit her lip. “That’s the day I was born.”

Mimi frowned and looked from the picture to Haruka and back again. “That baby is very teeny tiny.”

“Your papa and mama started off teeny tiny, just like you.”

She kept frowning. Haruka tried to remember what the parenting books said about this. Was she old enough to grasp it? Mimi eyed the photo with all the suspicion her little body could muster. She held the two photos next to each other.

“Who else is this one?”

“That’s my mom.”

Mimi looked up at her. “Grandma’s your mom.”

Haruka laughed. “Grandma’s Mama’s mom.” Mimi stared. “I have a different mom.”

“I have _two_ grandmas?”

“Just one, Honey bunch.” She rubbed Mimi’s arm. This was a talked she’d wanted to have when she was much older. “Papa’s mom… wasn’t very nice. She didn’t really want me.”

Mimi was quiet for a long moment. Her thumbs rubbed back and forth on the photos’ edges, leaving small sticky fingerprints in the gloss. “Do you want me, Papa?”

“More than anything.”

“Good.” She set the pictures aside and turned to snuggle into Haruka’s chest. “I want my Papa.” She clung on, and Haruka held her tight. She waited for the questions to go deeper. She waited for Mimi to deem her unworthy. But Mimi just stayed close.

“Your Papa is a good Papa, isn’t she Mimi?” Michiru said, her eyes meeting Haruka’s as she came back into the room. She smiled gently and sat next to them.

Mimi pressed harder into Haruka. “My Papa’s the _best_ Papa.”

A sob caught in Haruka’s throat. For the first time, she felt like maybe, for her little girl, she really could be.


	3. A Christmas Tradition

“Are we going to tell the kid there’s a Santa Claus?” Haruka asked, rubbing Michiru’s feet as the snow came down outside. They had not put up a tree, but Haruka had insisted on stringing up lights and holly. _Just because we don’t like holidays doesn’t mean the baby won’t_ , she’d said, placing a kiss above Michiru’s belly button.

“I should think not.” Michiru stretched, unable to find a comfortable position. “I don’t agree with my parents on much, but I think they were right to think Santa Claus is a gawdy and materialistic concept.”

Haruka laughed. “And god forbid anyone think the family at the top of the Forbes list is materialistic.” Michiru threw a pillow at her. She caught it. “I didn’t grow up with Santa Claus either. My mom always said Santa was too busy for kids like me, but if I wrote down one wish and was real good, an elf might come grant it.” She leaned back. “I always figured I just hadn’t been good enough, but I wished for impossible things.”

“Are you going to write a wish this year?”

“I might.” Haruka resumed her foot rub. “Things like that are hard to let go of, you know?”

Late that night, after Haruka had fallen asleep, Michiru went back out to the living room. Haruka no longer got up every time she did, on Michiru’s insistence that one of them, at least, should get sleep before the baby came. She found where Haruka had left her written wish tucked under one of their wedding photos on the mantle.

_I wish to have a beautiful, romantic Christmas with my wife._

Michiru smiled and chose to think it was pregnancy hormones that brought tears to her eyes. She stepped outside with her phone.

“Yes, Rei, I know it’s late, I need your help. No, no, the baby’s not coming. I just need a tree. A Christmas tree. Yes I know it’s Christmas Eve. Are you going to make a pregnant woman wander the cold streets alone? Yes, see you soon.”

They spent most of the night decorating. The weariness weighed on Michiru like a second pregnancy, but her heart was light. In the morning, Haruka padded out and stopped short. “What is this?”

“I wanted to show you you’ve been more than good enough.” Michiru said, using all her strength to get up from her chair. “I wanted to make your wish come true.”

“Oh Michi,” Haruka scooped her up in her arms. “It was always going to come true, so long as you were here. I’ve learned how to wish since I was a kid.”

“I would move heaven and earth for you, love.” She held her tight. “I’m going to make your wish come true every year, and our baby’s too.”

“Good luck on that one. We’ll have so many ponies.”

“We can afford a few ponies.”

“I thought we didn’t want our kid to be materialistic?”

“This is different. We can grant one wish.” She teared up again. “I never want either of you to feel like you aren’t good enough. I don’t care what it takes.”

What it took, it would turn out, was a lot of creativity to meet a child’s whimsical desires, but Michiru kept her promise every year.


End file.
